Then & Now
by labellebeaucoup
Summary: Then she was a freshman in college, hung up on how her life had previously been and ambitious, ready to prove herself. He was a new professor, ready to start life. They didn't expect to fall in love. Now, they're older, wiser and ready to pick up where they had left years ago. But can they?
1. Good in My Shirt

**A/N: Some of you may remember this story, originally by multipleshadesofpurple, as** _ **Good in my Shirt**_ **. The original author, a very good friend of mine, decided after a long, heartfelt deliberation that she will no longer be writing. Instead, she is spending time focusing on her career and family. Not wanting to leave her stories without ending, she spoke to me about finishing them for her. While she gave me some hints as to where she had envisioned her stories going, she left the interpretation completely up to me. Now Cass originally had a prequel to this story started titled,** _ **Accidentally in Love**_ **. Rather than continuing that prequel, it will be included in this story, the** _ **Then**_ **chapters. For the time being, Cass has not deleted her published versions of these stories from her profile. The first two chapters of this story are completely Cass's work – mine will take off in chapter 3 and onward. I do hope I can do justice to Cass's work – she's left me with quite the conundrum as I am not a first-person author by choice.**

 _ **Then & Now**_

 _ **Chapter One:**_

 _ **Good in my Shirt**_

 _ **Now**_

 _ **Fitz:**_

I walked into the crowded, smoky atmosphere of the old Yancy's pub, having just finished teaching my last class of the day. I tried to come here once a month to have a few drinks with friends and once a month I drank enough to drown out my hurt. I didn't want my friends to think that I had lost all interest in them, although, if truth be told, I didn't particularly like the one day that I did come here. Everything about the bar reminded me of the day six years ago when I had first met Olivia. _Olivia._ Just the sound of her name could bring back all of the good and bad memories of the time that we had spent together…including the heartbreaking memory of telling her parents and being banned from seeing one another.

I sighed, grabbing my scotch and preceding to a table in the back of the room, dimly lit by the light. I sat heavily on the wooden seat, sipping at my drink as I waited for my friends, wallowing in the misery of how my relationship with Olivia had ended. Her parents had been furious when we told them that we were dating. They banned Olivia from seeing me, but we still snuck around. We thought we were being careful, but on her seventeenth birthday, her parents found the two of us together. They packed everything up and moved to New York the very next day and I haven't seen Olivia since. She's twenty-two now and probably still as beautiful as ever. I imagined that she probably had gotten married, unlike me.

I jumped slightly when I felt someone place their cool hands over my eyes, obscuring my vision. The person's hands felt soft against my face and the large, metal ring on their index finger let me know that it wasn't Cyrus. For a second I thought that it might possibly be Mellie, Cyrus's idea of finding me a girlfriend, but I knew that she wasn't the type to play a game like this. I inhaled slightly, taking in the person's strong, flowery scent. My heart stopped beating for a second as I realized that I hadn't smelled that particular scent since the last time I had seen Olivia. I willed myself not to jump to conclusions; Olivia was probably still in New York.

"Guess who." I shivered slightly when the person moved forward and whispered in my ear with an unmistakable sultry voice that I could place anywhere. I smiled slightly, she had come back. I decided to have a little fun.

"Jessica?" I questioned, sounding confused.

"No…" She drew out and I could hear her earrings clinking as she shook her head.

"Miranda?" I threw out a random name, chuckling when I heard Olivia giggle as she withdrew her hands.

"It's amazing how easily you forget," She laughed as she slid into the seat across from me and signaled toward a waiter. I had to give the bar owners credit for remodeling the bar and adding waiters in an attempt to gain more customers.

"I have never forgotten about you," I stated, taking in her appearance. She was as beautiful as she had ever been. Her hair was shorter than the last time, but it was still the same dark brown that I remembered. She had a wiser look in her eyes, as if she had seen and been through a lot in the past few years. Her fashion sense had apparently become more sophisticated if the belted dress and brown, mid-calf heeled boots she wore were any indication.

"What can I get you, miss?" The waiter asked as he neared our table. I felt a slight twinge of jealousy at the look the kid was giving Olivia. We weren't dating anymore, but I still loved her. I'm certain that if her parents hadn't have torn us apart, we would be married by now.

"Um…a Coke and fries, please," She responded, not once tearing her eyes from me, "I have a feeling I'll have to drive tonight." She nodded toward my glass as the kid walked away. I felt my heart skip when she said those words. What exactly were her intentions for tonight?

"So…what have you been up to?" She questioned me, clasping her hands together underneath her chin and looking at me expectantly.

"I'm still teaching at George Washington. Not much has changed since…" I wasn't sure how to complete that sentence. I didn't want to say left because that would sound as if she had a choice in the matter, which she didn't. I also didn't want to say anything about her parents because I wasn't quite sure how her relationship was with them.

She seemed to notice my discomfort and decided to ask another question, successfully avoiding the awkward moment, "No new girlfriend?"

"I tried dating a couple girls after…after what happened, but none of them could compare to you," I answered truthfully, taking a sip of my scotch before asking her the question that had been foremost on my mind, "What about you?"

She gave a rueful smile before answering my question, "I dated one boy when I first arrived in New York. It lasted until my graduation, when I broke up with him. I only dated him to make my parents happy. It was hell not getting to see you. I still haven't forgiven my parents for what they did. The day I graduated, I left, intent on coming back to see you."

I was silent for a few minutes, processing her words. I wondered why she was just now getting around to visiting me. I took a breath before asking her, "Why are you just now getting here?"

She looked taken back by my question at first, as if she hadn't expected me to ask it.

"I saw you in New York with some redhead. I figured that you had moved on, so I bought an apartment and started going to Columbia."

I furrowed my brow at her statement, trying to remember what redhead she was talking about. Then I remembered going to visit my grandmother a few years back and her setting me up with Rose, a daughter of one of her bridge friends. I had had fun on the date, but I wasn't willing to pursue a relationship with her. While Rose was nice, she lacked any depth and she hated to read. I had compared her to Olivia during the whole date.

"I hadn't moved on, Livvie. My grandmother set me up, hoping that that girl and I would click. My grandma said that she was tired of me moping about. Believe me when I say that the date was an absolute disaster," I chuckled, watching as a smile broke across Olivia's face.

"That's good to know." It sounded like she was flirting. I started to say something, but we were interrupted by the arrival of Olivia's drink and fries. She thanked the water before taking a hearty sip of her Coke and offering me some of her fries.

"What did you decide to major in?" I asked her. The last time we had talked about that, she was stuck between an English and Law major.

"Business Law," She smiled, nibbling on a fry; "Someone very close inspired me to make the decision."

"Don't try to place all of the responsibility for that decision on my shoulders," I laughed, glancing down to notice that my glass was empty.

"Don't try to act so modest." She shook her head at me, a smile playing across her lips.

"I've missed this," I admitted, gesturing between the two of us.

"I've missed _you_ ," She responded, reaching across the table and placing her hand on top of mine. I glanced down and nearly cried at the sight of her small hand on top of my larger one. I was glad to know that I still felt the same old spark when her skin touched mine.

"I've missed you, too," I said, rubbing my thumb across her knuckles, enjoying the sight of her hand with mine.

"Let's get out here," She suggested, moving to stand. I hesitated; I knew what she was insinuating, but I wasn't quite so sure that we should be taking that step so quickly. I threw all caution to the wind when she leaned down in front of me and placed her lips on mine. Passion exploded between the two of us as we each struggled to get as close as we could to one another; she was practically sitting on my lap in the small booth we shared. We reluctantly pulled apart when we heard someone clearing their throat beside the table. I slowly tore my gaze away from Olivia's to find Cyrus and Mellie standing beside the booth, beers in hand. Cyrus wore a knowing smile on his face; he did, after all, know about Olivia and the hell the two of us went through.

"Nice to see you again, Olivia," Cyrus greeted, smirking as Olivia blushed.

"You too, Cy," She sounded slightly embarrassed as she attempted to stand from my lap; only to have me tighten my arms around her waist, holding her still.

"You guys sure looked comfortable," Olivia commented as he and Mellie slid into the booth opposite the two of us –a permanent scowl etched onto Mellie's elegant features.

"Shut the hell up," I playfully warned, as I nuzzled Olivia's neck before leaning forward to whisper in her ear, "Maybe we _should_ go somewhere more private."

She nodded her head vigorously and stood once I loosened my hold on her. I threw the money for our drinks and food on the table.

"I think I'm going to skip tonight. Have fun you guys," I said, watching as Mellie pursed her lips and Cyrus gave me a _very_ understanding look; along with a not so discreet thumbs up. I shook my head in slight disapproval before grasping Olivia's soft hand in mine and leading her outside. The two of us shivered slightly as we stepped outside into the near freezing wind. Snowflakes were beginning to fall, turning the air around us white. Olivia and I shared a smile before we walked the short distance to my parked car. I unlocked the doors and moved to open the passenger door for Olivia, but was stopped when she placed a hand on my forearm.

"Kiss me," She commanded, looking like a goddess with the snow blowing around her. I nodded, knowing that it had always been Olivia's wish to kiss me in the streets of D.C. We shared a chaste kiss before rushing into the vehicle, intent on warming up. Olivia rubbed her hands together as I started the engine and pulled onto the snow covered street. Nearly ten minutes later, I pulled into the parking lot of the apartment complex that I have called my home ever since I moved to here.

"You didn't move," Olivia commented, looking up at the building as I turned the ignition off.

"I wanted to make sure that you would be able to find me," I responded, opening the door and stepping out of the car. Olivia quickly jumped out of the car and grabbed my outstretched hand as the two of us briskly walked into the building and to my apartment. I had barely closed my door when Olivia attacked me, wrapping her arms around my neck and pressing her lips against mine. I moaned against her lips and ran my tongue across her bottom lip, begging for entrance. We were soon dueling passionately for dominance as Olivia jumped into my arms, wrapping her legs around my waist. I could feel myself becoming increasingly aroused and it didn't help matters that Olivia was grinding against me.

"Are you sure about this?" I managed to ask through my lust filled haze.

"Yes. I told you once, Fitz…I want you to be my first…and my last," She whispered in my ear before attacking my lips again. My heart swelled at the fact that she had saved herself for me. Maybe there was a chance for the two of us- we were obviously still in love.

"I love you, Olivia," I told her for the first time in six years as I carried her to my bed.

"I love you, too," She informed me as her back hit the bed. I smiled down at her, throwing my shirt off and moving back to the bed. As our lips crashed together once more, I couldn't help but feel as if we were finally where we were meant to be.

 _ **The Next Day-**_

I woke up before Olivia and watched her for nearly ten minutes, enjoying the sight of her in my arms. Last night had been amazing. I was still ecstatic that Olivia had waited for me to be her first and I couldn't express how happy I was when she told me that she wanted me to be her only. That was a wish that I was more than willing to fulfill for her.

Eventually I decided to get out of bed and pull my boxers on before making my way to the kitchen. I was making breakfast when Olivia walked into the kitchen, wearing nothing but my white, button up shirt. My heart melted at the sight of her in my clothes with her mused hair, she looked as if she truly belonged in my apartment. She walked up behind me and wrapped her arms around my waist as I flipped the pancake in the pan on the stove.

"Good morning, beautiful," I said, glancing over my shoulder to look down at her.

"Good morning, handsome," She replied, standing on her toes to give me a quick peck on the lips.

"What are you fixing?" She inquired, gesturing toward the stove in front of me.

"Pancakes," I responded, stepping out of her embrace to grab a couple plates.

"Since when did you learn how to cook?" She wondered, going to the refrigerator and grabbing the orange juice.

"I've always known how to cook. I just didn't feel like it," I smirked, watching as she grabbed a glass and poured herself some juice. She laughed at my statement before taking a sip of her juice and placing the juice container back in the refrigerator. I placed our pancakes on our plates and grabbed some strawberries from the refrigerator when Olivia asked me a loaded question.

"Fitz, where do we go from here?"

I sighed as I retrieved the strawberries and sat them on the containing, feigning interest in arranging them on our plates while I contemplated the answer to her question. I knew where _I_ wanted to go from here, but I wasn't sure if that was what _she_ wanted. I was content with the two of us picking up the pieces of our relationship and starting again from where we left off. I could already envision her moving in with me and, in a few months, getting engaged. Instead of voicing those opinions, though, I said the safest thing I could think of.

"I think it's still a little too early to know if this is going to work," I began, watching as her face fell slightly. I took that as a good sign; at least she probably wanted the same thing I did. "But…you look damn good in my shirt."

I watched as a smile spread across her face and she ran into my arms, meeting me halfway and crushing her lips against mine. No matter what happens, I'm certain that the two of us will make it through… _together._


	2. Thinking Out Loud

_**Then & Now**_

 _ **Chapter Two:**_

 _ **Thinking Out Loud**_

 _ **Now**_

 _ **Olivia:**_

"Where do we go from here?" I asked, taking a large gulp of the warm coffee that Fitz had handed me only seconds before.

"I thought we agreed to run with it and see where this takes us," Fitz groaned, turning away from the barista and intertwining his free hand with mine.

"We can't just sweep everything under the rug," I sighed, looking out at the grey sky with dread.

"What's bothering you?" He gave me a lopsided smile as I snuggled further into my warm, winter coat before allowing him to drag me into the frigid weather.

"What do we tell people?" I began, stating the obvious. There had been rumors swirling through campus when we first started dating. More than a few of the other professors and students gave serious attention to the rumor of a seventeen year old dating her thirty-one-year old Political Science professor. It had become almost second nature to dodge the rumor mill and cause them to second guess themselves. The rumors never truly died until I had begun to 'date' the all-state quarterback at school, Jake Ballard. All that trouble and we weren't even dating at _that_ time. Close to it, but _not_ at the same time.

I couldn't stop the smirk from playing across my face at that memory. Fitz had been _livid_ when he first heard about Jake through my best friend at the time. I hadn't had the chance to share what I considered my clever ruse with him and, being Fitz, he immediately overreacted. I had to practically corner him after class one day to tell him the truth. I had an inkling that he would still overreact if I mentioned Jake's name now, six years later.

"What does it matter what we tell them?" I sighed. Leave it to Fitz to gloss over the important things such as what the university will think when the two of us are spotted together – a likely near-future issue considering the way we were walking through town, hand in hand.

"Because omitting the past would probably be the best option?" I twisted my neck slightly the right, watching for his reaction. He didn't look like he was too happy about the suggestion.

"No."

"Fitz -."

"No," He shook his head vehemently, "I'm not lying about you, Livvie. Next problem."

"Mmph." I took a sip of my coffee, dropping the topic for now. There was no use in arguing with him when he was that way and it wouldn't get us anywhere.

"Your dad?" I made my next statement tentatively – Fitz and Jerry were rarely on speaking terms.

"My _father_ ," The way he spat the word and the look of distrust, unease, and disgust that filled his face was shocking even to me. "Isn't relevant to us, either. Next."

"You're being impossible," I observed, almost falling when he came to an abrupt halt beside me.

"Okay, then. What about _your_ father and mother?" He raised an eyebrow down at me, waiting for me to respond so he could quickly say, "I told you so."

"I'm not talking to them." I crossed my arms stubbornly, looking up into his pale blue eyes. I was taken aback when he chuckled.

"I love when you pout." He traced his finger across my lips, his eyes twinkling before swooping down for a kiss.

"Whoa." We jumped apart at the voice behind us and turned to find James smirking, holding a steaming cup of coffee in his hand.

"I heard you were back in town," He offered, patting me on the shoulder.

"Cyrus?" Fitz asked, not moving his arm from my waist as he, too, turned to look at the shorter man.

"Mellie was pissed," James laughed. I scrunched my face in confusion – why would James hear about me from Cyrus and who was Mellie?

"It's not like it was serious. We went on one date…because Cyrus threatened my life if I refused."

"He said your moping about was driving him nuts."

"Good to know I make my way into your pillow-talk."

"You're good pillow-talk fodder," James winked. I stared back and forth between the two. Apparently a lot more had happened than I thought during my absence.

"And Olivia looks like she has a lot of unanswered questions. I'll leave you two to it. Good to see you again, Liv. We'll have to go out for dinner later. Double-date." And with that, James was off, practically running down the slick, snow-covered sidewalks. How he kept his balance was a mystery.

"Pillow-talk?" I asked, turning to look at Fitz.

"He and Cyrus are together," Fitz explained, grabbing my hand once more and easing me into a steady pace by his side.

"What?" I stopped mid-sip, trying to keep my coffee in my mouth at the news. It was unexpected of the man I had simply referred to as 'Dean Beene' while attending the university.

"It happened two years ago. Around Christmas. He came out to me before a few of his other friends." I grinned – maybe this was the reason Cyrus seemed to be more relaxed, less excitable, at the bar last night.

"And Mellie?" Fitz's smile dropped at my inquiry.

"She's the daughter of Mayor Lentz. Cyrus sat us up about a week ago because, as James put it, I was raining on his parade. She's rather boring and self-absorbed." Fitz shrugged, leading me closer to his apartment and the promised warmth there.

"It's nothing to worry about?" I asked. I had to be sure.

"Mellie will never be anything to worry about." He stopped to give me a quick peck. I smiled at the unspoken reassurance from him and allowed him to lead me into the brick apartment building.

* * *

"Fitz," I called from my place on the large, black leather sofa.

"Give me a second." I continued to stare at the webpage in front of me as I waited for him to enter the room. I tucked my feet under me, pulling the fleece blanket closer around my body. Even with the heat on, the apartment was cold. I needed to ask Fitz about that.

"What?" He asked, slightly out of breath and appearing with a towel wrapped around his waist, his hair glistening with water droplets.

"You could have gotten dressed first," I smirked, giggling as he shook his head, water spraying my face.

"It sounded urgent." He leaned over me from behind and glanced at my laptop.

"Aren't you cold, though?"

"No."

"It's freezing in here."

"That sounds like a personal problem."

"Hey!" I playfully swatted at him, laughing as he moved out of the way, easily avoiding my half-hearted attempts.

"It'll become a _me_ problem when you come to bed." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively, causing me to laugh.

"What do you think?" I asked, staring at the page in front of me, drawing his attention away from the sudden, unexpected innuendo.

"If it's what you want to do, apply. The worst they can tell you is no." He kissed my check before heading back toward the bedroom. I grinned, stealing one last look at his back before opening the online application.


	3. All That You Are

_**Then & Now:**_

 _ **Chapter Three:**_

 _ **All That You Are**_

 _ **Then**_

 _ **Olivia:**_

"Good luck!" I turned at the sound of my stepmother's jubilant voice. She was more excited for my first day of college than I was.

"It's just another school year," I shrugged, taking one last look in the mirror of the foyer and smoothing my shirt.

"It's your first day of college! You have no idea how proud your father and I are of you."

"I doubt that." My father, recently appointed Director of the Central Intelligence Agency, was rarely home. I would have been shocked to have learned that he even _knew_ of my early graduation from high school or that, at seventeen, I was one of the youngest students at Georgetown University. If he did know about any of this, most likely from Nairobi, he wasn't proud. It was something to brag about in front of his colleagues – a 'my child is better than yours' card that he could and _would_ play.

"You'll see. He's going to be home early to take you out to dinner," Nairobi smiled. I sighed. I may as well pretend to agree with her – she wouldn't stop unless I did. Nodding my head, I reached for the black leather backpack I had sitting on the floor and swung it over my shoulder. It was heavier than it had been in high school. I only had three of my five classes today, but I was prepared. My Latin, Government, and English textbooks were all nestled beside plenty of notebooks, pens, and my laptop.

"I'm going to head out, Nairobi. I don't want to be late for my first class." She gave me a quick hug, and I smiled. The last two years of my life hadn't been easy, but Nairobi had helped. Daily, I was amazed that someone like her had ended up with my father. She was everything a mother should be – despite her misgivings at being my mother at first, having no children of her own.

"Have a good day!"

* * *

"Why does this campus have to be so big?" I wondered aloud, staring at my campus map for the hundredth time as I tried to locate the right building for my next class. I had barely made it to Latin on time and I had been five minutes late for English. I had hopes of reaching my Government class in time, but at the rate I was going, I would be late for it, too.

"Lost?"

"Is it that obvious?" I laughed, turning in the direction of the male voice. Breathing deeply, the built up tension in my shoulders left as I took him in. Wearing dress pants and a tie, he most likely was _not_ a student. He pushed his brown hair out of his eyes before gesturing for my schedule.

"Well, you're in luck," he grinned, handing my schedule back, "I'm headed that way. You can walk with me."

"Thank you!" I jammed the piece of paper back into my backpack and shouldered the bag, falling into step with his long strides. "I was worried I would be late for this class, too."

"As long as you're there before the professor, or _with_ the professor in your case, you can't be late," he winked, pushing his messenger bag back with one hand and extending his other to shake mine, "Professor Grant."

"Olivia," I offered, shaking his hand. I felt better knowing that there was one class I would be on time for – thank goodness my professor had the good grace to be late! I glanced at him on the way to class – he was younger than I had expected. Late twenties or early thirties as far as I could tell.

"What is your major?" He asked as we entered a building in the middle of campus, the glass doors swinging shut behind us.

"Undecided. This is my first semester. Obviously." I shrugged.

"You have time."

"That's what I keep saying. When did you pick your major?"

"You could say it was chosen for me, but I love it. You'll find something." He halted in front of a wooden door, removing his wallet from his back pocket and holding it up to the card reader by the door. He twisted the door handle and pulled when the slim, black machine blinked green. I followed him into the room, choosing a desk in the front. The rest of the class filed in behind us.

"Good morning, class." I busied myself by pulling a notebook, pen, and my textbook from my bag. A guy in my Latin class had called me over prepared and had called me a 'newbie', but being over prepared was as much a part of me as breathing. My anxiety tended to skyrocket if I thought I was missing _anything_. Besides, my English professor had appreciated my preparedness.

"I like to start my class with introductions. I will be your professor this semester. This is American Government 101; if that is _not_ your scheduled class, the door is right over there," the class snickered at that comment and I even found myself smiling, "You can call me Professor Grant if you insist on being overtly formal _or_ you feel it's too awkward to call me by my first name. For those of you who aren't offended by my informality, you may call me Fitz. Either one will do, but _please_ do not call me Mr. Grant. That is my father. I am a graduate of Yale University where I received my PhD in Political Science and a graduate of Harvard Law School where I received my J.D. No, I do not expect you to call me 'doctor'. I like rock music and reading. Now it's _your_ turn."

I turned in my seat to listen to the guy that he had pointed out in the back of the room as Fitz slid onto his desk, allowing one foot to touch the floor. Already, this class was shaping up to be entertaining. I still had no clue what I wanted to major in, but if the rest of our classes were as entertaining as this one, I could see myself majoring in political science or something similar. I watched Professor Grant, or Fitz as he asked to be called, while the students behind me took turns introducing themselves. He watched them with interest, asking questions and nodding along while they spoke. I had noticed the way he had spoken about his father – that offhanded, 'wall has been up longer than I can remember' manner in which he had mentioned him. It wasn't very evident, but someone from a broken home with a growing number of parental issues, didn't have trouble noticing. Part of me wondered what had happened in _his_ otherwise well put together life.

"Olivia?"

"Huh?" I shook my head, clearing my mind of my thoughts as I realized that Fitz and the rest of the class were looking at me; waiting for my introduction. I felt my cheeks turning red.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled, clearing my throat and speaking louder, "I'm Olivia. This is my first year and I'm not sure what I want to major in, yet. I've been thinking about political science or law, but nothing concrete. I love reading."

"What's the last book you read?" I swallowed hard when I looked up, locking eyes with Fitz. God he had beautiful eyes. Burning. My cheeks felt like they were on fire at that point. I could _not_ be developing a crush on my professor.

"The Grimm fairytales in their original German," I answered, trying not to smile at the long, approving whistle Fitz gave.

"That's a tough one. You read in German? I just finished _Siddhartha_ by Hesse. Unfortunately, I had to read the English version."

"My dad's job takes him all over the world. When I was younger, he would teach me different languages whenever we were together."

"What languages do you know?" I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. He hadn't asked this many questions of any of my classmates. I'm sure they had noticed as well.

"German, French, Spanish, and Swahili. I can read Russian."

"That's quite impressive."

"Not really," I shrugged. Nairobi had always said I was modest. "German is a close, _close_ cousin of English. Once you know either Spanish or French, the other is relatively simple to learn and it's easy to learn to read a language – speaking it is the hard part. Having to _think_ of a string of words that fit together to make a sentence rather than having that sentence handed to you is hard."

"You may be modest, but the rest of us are very impressed, Ms…" he glanced at his class list that lay beside him on his desk, "Pope. May I assume Director Pope is your father?"

"I try not to blast that information." He nodded, pushing off his desk and turning to his computer. He didn't say a word as he logged into the computer and booted up his PowerPoint.

"Today, we're going to start with a very general, very basic introduction to American government," he began – at least he didn't have a monotone voice. I had heard plenty of horror stories of that kind from my high school teachers once they had learned I would be graduating. So far, I had lucked out. I flipped my notebook open and began taking notes, trying to distract myself from _him_. I chalked it up to a basic, primal attraction. He was hot, there was nothing else to it. I'm sure every other girl in the class thought the same thing – how could they not?

* * *

"Damn," I muttered, tossing my keys in the glass bowl on the short, ornate wooden table by the door. I could hear my dad's voice coming from the kitchen. We avoided each other most of the time. Normally, he wasn't home until I had already gone to bed. It wasn't always like this between the two of us, but recent events had changed that and, from where I stood, I couldn't foresee any changes in the near future. I tried to silently creep up the stairs, cursing again when the bottom stair creaked the moment I placed my foot on the wooden step.

"Olivia?" May as well answer – dad was a stickler for that. I didn't have many rules, but showing respect was one of them.

"Um, give me a moment." I slung my bag from my shoulder and leaned it against the railing. Placing my hands in the pockets of my shorts, I headed toward the kitchen. Dad was leaning against the counter, his suit jacket still on. Nairobi grinned at me the moment I entered.

"How was it?" she demanded, her face lighting up.

"Good. Latin seems difficult, but English and Government make up for that."

"It doesn't surprise me that you're drawn to that class." I shook my head – I hadn't said I was drawn to that class. Sometimes, even the littlest things he said could infuriate me.

"We wanted to take you out for dinner –"

 _Ring. Ring. Ring._

"Hold on, one moment." Dad held a finger up, effectively silencing both of us. We didn't speak whenever he had a call from his work cell. I slid onto the bar stool in front of the island, resting my elbows on the cool marble. I didn't want to go to dinner with my dad. If I was lucky, he'd have to go back to work and I would get a free pass.

"That was work." I rolled my eyes. We already _knew_ that. When was he ever home that they weren't calling him back to work? "I have to go. I'm sorry, princess. Rain check?"

"Sure," I nodded, feeling relief, "I'll just grab something here with Nairobi and start on homework."

"Homework already? I like this school." Of course he did. He hadn't attended Georgetown. Instead, he was living his dreams through me. If I let him.

"A couple essays and practicing the Latin alphabet," I shrugged. It wasn't difficult.

"Make sure you get it done." With that said, he kissed Nairobi and left. I waited until I heard the front door shut before I hopped from the stool, moving toward the refrigerator. Leave it up to him to treat me like a child. I wouldn't have been able to graduate early if I hadn't been doing my homework and I had never once needed him to tell me to do it. Opening the refrigerator, I eyed the bottle of wine that sat on the glass shelf – if only I were home alone. Moving my hand past the bottle, I grabbed the cartoon of orange juice before shutting the door and heading to the cabinet for a glass.

"What about take out? Anything you want! You had a big day." I smiled to myself. Nairobi had a way of making me relax. She had been a stay at home wife since she'd married my father, about twelve years ago. I got the impression that she had been bored out of her mind until I moved in about three years ago. She gained a purpose then. To a heartbroken fourteen-year-old girl, she had been a godsend.

"Sure," I agreed, grabbing a glass from the cabinet and pouring some juice. Popping the lid back on the container, I moved to return it to the refrigerator. "What about pizza?"

"That's surprising. I would have assumed you'd pick Chinese."

"Thought maybe we'd try something different," I sipped at my orange juice, "And you _hate_ Chinese."

"You know I'd suffer through it for you."

"Extra cheesy pizza is fine."

"That sounds amazing and completely cheat worthy," she winked. She had been on this health kick lately – going for runs every morning, eating only organic, and counting every calorie. She didn't need it, she'd been stick thin since I'd known her, but it gave her something to do while I was at school. Like I said, she was bored.

I headed back toward the stairs, grabbing my bag and going up to my bedroom. I ran my hand over the stenciled, pink lettering on my door. When I had first moved here, I had abhorred that pink paint. I thought it was too childish to have my name stenciled onto my door. It had taken me a while to accept it and to accept the goodwill that had been behind Nairobi's action. It wasn't until I had caught her one day after school, a paintbrush in her hand and prepared to cover the lettering, that I had realized why she had done it – and that I didn't want it gone. It was our first bonding moment. I moved my hand to the doorknob and twisted. It was time to get to work on my assignments and stop reminiscing.

* * *

"Are you done with your homework, yet?" I jolted awake, feeling the imprint of my notebook on my cheek and looked at my computer screen. I had finished my essays nearly an hour or so earlier and had been studying Latin. My half-eaten pizza crust sat to the side. I shook my head: when had I fallen asleep? Dumping the paper plate in my trashcan, I stretched and answered Nairobi:

"Yeah. What's up?"

"I thought maybe we'd go see a movie? Your dad isn't home yet." He was _always_ late home. I could literally count on one hand the amount of times he had managed to make it home before the sunset – and those were normally some of the longest days of the year. They didn't count.

"Sure." I stood from my chair, glancing down at my outfit. My shirt was a little wrinkled, but it wasn't bad. It would do. I retied my Converse, those things were always coming undone.

"I was thinking we could hit up Capital? They're playing _Psycho_ tonight." She knew that I preferred older movies to newer ones. Not all the new ones were bad, but…nothing could beat a Hitchcock film and definitely not _Psycho_.

"Let's go." I grabbed my purse on the way out of the room, following Nairobi down the stairs. I waited while she left a note for my dad, explaining where we had gone should he happen to beat us home. It wasn't likely. The drive to the theater was quiet. I watched as we passed people running or lounging on the grass under trees. Two years later and the beauty of this city still took my breath away. I still wouldn't admit it to my dad, but I had come to love Washington. There wasn't much traffic this evening and I was grateful for that. That was the one thing I did hate about living here – all the traffic.

At the theater, Nairobi got our tickets and met me with drinks and popcorn. I had to laugh at her explanation that we were spoiling ourselves today – we didn't have girls' days every day, after all. In the movie theater, she found a spot for the two of us in the middle row – my favorite seats. It wasn't often that this theater had many moviegoers in it – there weren't many who showed favoritism to old Hollywood, even if the tickets were ridiculously cheap.

"Olivia?" I jumped at the unexpected sound of my name, nearly spilling my drink in my lap, and turned to see Fitz standing at the end of the row of seats.

"Hi! Small world, right?" I laughed, gesturing for him to take a seat beside me. I don't know where that bravado came from or why I did it. At the moment, it felt right.

"This is my stepmom, Nairobi. Nairobi, this is my government professor, Fitz," I introduced the two, sucking my gut in and leaning back in my seat as far as I could as they reached across me to shake hands.

"Are you a fan?" Nairobi inclined her head toward the screen.

"I come here every Monday night. It's my treat to myself and I love these movies."

"I love these movies, too," I joined the conversation, " _Psycho_ is my favorite."

"Should that worry me?" he laughed.

"Only if I start getting bad grades for no reason," I giggled, taking a sip of my soda.

"You know, that's a scary threat considering who your father is."

"She talked about her dad?" Nairobi's voice sounded absurdly hopeful. She had long wanted the tension between my father and I to disappear. She kept holding out for the day that I would suddenly say that I held no resentment for him whatsoever. I hated that I couldn't shove my emotions to the side long enough to give her that one small thing, but try as I might, they just _wouldn't_ go away.

"I was quick to put two and two together. She seems like she'll be a great student." I felt my cheeks blush red at that compliment and was silently thankful for the low lighting in the theater. This was ridiculous. He was hot. I didn't care about boys. School not boys. I was thankful when the lights were completely dimmed and the screen came on. At least I would be distracted for the next two hours anyway.

After the movie, the three of us stood outside the theater. There was still plenty of daylight left – about an hour or so. Nairobi was making small talk with Fitz, as awkward as that had the potential to become. I stood to the side, pretending to be interested in my phone. There was nothing to be interested in, but they didn't know that. I hadn't made friends when I had moved here. Instead, I had focused entirely on school. It was the easiest way for me to deal with my grief.

"Olivia?"

"Yeah?" I pushed myself off the wall I had been leaning against, locking my phone and sliding it into my pocket.

"Do you want to get ice cream and go for a walk?" I liked Nairobi's offer, though I wasn't quite sure where Fitz fit into this scenario. He still stood by her, looking at me expectantly. If I had to guess, she had invited him.

"Sure," I agreed, falling in behind Nairobi and Fitz as they both started moving down the sidewalk.

"Did any of your classes help you decide what you want to major in?"

"Your class was my last," I stated, "but, I think I might consider law. I liked English, too."

"Your first year is mainly your general classes, anyway. Once those are out of the way, it's nothing to get your degree."

I nodded, watching as a flock of pigeons took off, soaring through the slightly darkening blue sky. It really was beautiful here. When I had first landed in D.C., I had hated it. It took my breath away even then, and I thought it was gorgeous, but it wasn't Totowa. I hadn't wanted to move from Oklahoma. I had loved the small town life that my mother had established for us. I had friends there. I had a life there. That was all before. At times, it felt like there were two completely different versions of me. The person I had been before and the person I became after – once grief and a change of scenery had taken hold on me.

"Here." I looked up in shock. I had been lost in my thoughts, something I noticed happening a lot to me lately. I hadn't noticed we had come this far, or that we were standing in front of the dairy bar. I looked at the milkshake in Fitz's hand – Nairobi must have ordered for me. Or she told him what I preferred.

"You may be one of the few people I know who don't like ice cream."

"I like ice cream," I shrugged in response to his statement, "in milkshake form. Thank you."

"Your mo – stepmom, ordered." He looked embarrassed by his slip. If I were completely honest with myself, it was cute.

"It's okay. She's the closest thing I have to a mom, now." I took a sip of my milkshake. Mint chocolate chip. My favorite. We stood in silence while we waited for Nairobi. It didn't take her long to rejoin us and once more we were slowly making our way down the sidewalk.

"Did you like Cambridge?" I questioned, turning to look at Fitz and shielding my eyes with my free hand. The sun was still bright.

"Huh?" He looked taken aback as he took his attention from his ice cream cone.

"You said you graduated from Harvard…"

"Right. It was okay, but I missed Washington."

"You grew up here?"

"Practically. Technically, our home was in Boston, but my father spent more time here than he ever did in Massachusetts. He was a senator." That was news. He hadn't mentioned that during class. Maybe that was why he had had that tone when he spoke of his father. It still carried in his voice here, but he did a slightly better job at hiding it. That hint of resentment.

"I grew up in Oklahoma." I pursed my lips – what made me share that information? I kept my childhood, _everything_ before here, close to myself. I didn't share any of my former life with anyone – not even Nairobi.

"A southern girl? Never would have guessed."

"Yeah, well. That was a while ago." I shrugged it off the best I could – I _didn't_ talk about that time. I returned my attention to my milkshake. Why was I finding it so hard to stay quiet around him? I breathed a sigh of relief when I noticed we had circled back around to the theater. It was getting a bit darker after all.

"Thank you for joining us!" Nairobi was enthusiastic as ever, shaking Fitz's hand once more before she began digging in her purse for her car keys, leaving the two of us to say goodbye.

"I'll see you in class." He held his hand out, ready to shake my hand.

"Um, yeah," I answered, trying to drag my eyes from his – he really did have beautiful eyes. I shook his hand – thankfully he could be professional. I was currently finding that difficult to do. Withdrawing my hand from his, I watched as he headed past Nairobi and her car, toward his. I let out the breath I hadn't realized I had been holding. This was going to be a long semester with him. I hadn't so much as looked at a boy since I moved here, and it would be just my luck that the first one to catch my attention would be my professor.

Boy was I in trouble.


	4. How Could I Want More?

_**Then & Now**_

 _ **Chapter Four:**_

 _ **How Could I Want More?**_

 _ **Now**_

 _ **Fitz:**_

"Don't you think this is a little…fast?" Cyrus asked as he collected his drink from the bar, waiting for me to do the same before heading toward the back of the establishment. I sighed, taking a sip of my beer as I slid into the booth at the table he had chosen. That had been a constant question of Cyrus's over the last two weeks – since I had told him that Olivia was applying to jobs in the area and practically living in my apartment.

"What's so fast about it?" I shrugged, picking at the bowl of peanuts on the table. I grabbed one, cracking it and picking the peanuts from the broken shell.

"You two dated for _maybe_ four months before she and her parents moved and now she's back for barely two weeks and you're already living together. I _like_ Olivia, Fitz, but you two need to take your time and get to know one another." I had to laugh out loud at that one. The amount of time the two of us had spent dating may have been short, but it didn't mean that we knew nothing about one another. Olivia had confided in me long before we ever started dating. She had chosen to lay herself bare _before_ we reached that stage.

"We do know one another, Cy." I was taken aback by the stern look he threw my way, a look that would have stopped a wayward child in their tracks; a look that had me at a loss for words.

"You told me that the two of you didn't start dating until she was almost eighteen, Fitz."

"We didn't, Cy. Hell, I didn't even meet her until she was seventeen. We had a lot of conversations before we started dating. It was _easy_ to confide in her."

"It was a slippery slope, back then, too."

"Believe me, I know. That's why we only dated for four months…and why we didn't have sex until two weeks ago."

"I'm shocked you waited that long."

"It wasn't illegal, but that didn't make it feel any less wrong. I wanted to wait until she was eighteen and she knew that. Then her parents doing what they did…I'm still shocked _she_ waited for me." And that was true. I had made it clear to Olivia then that I didn't want to embark on an intimate relationship until she was legally an adult – the age of consent be damned. At times, it had been hard to think of Olivia as anything other than an adult, but I had kept my control. It was the best I could do for her. Three months of our relationship the first time around could hardly have counted as a relationship. As pissed as Olivia had been about it, holding hands was the most she was allowed – our 'relationship' had mostly been a promise to her that we would date after her eighteenth birthday. It was hardly dating at all. Because of her father, we had only gotten to truly be a couple for a month.

"What exactly _did_ her parents do?" I shook my head. I should have expected Cyrus to ask that question – anyone would have been curious about that.

"After her parents found out that we were dating, Olivia wanted to move out of their house and stay with me."

"Why didn't she? I never understood that. She was old enough – she could have made that decision."

"Except her father, being who he was, threatened to make evidence appear –"

"What kind of evidence? You two didn't even know one another at a time that your relationship could have been considered inappropriate."

"Not things about our relationship, no he wouldn't bring Olivia's name into that. Anything that could have – and _would_ have caused jail time or worse for me. Olivia only moved to New York with them to prevent that from happening."

"Talk about a gross misuse of power," Cyrus spat, taking a gulp of his beer. I had to agree with him on that one – Eli Pope had done more than his fair share of abusing power. I would be terrified if he were still in his position as Director of the CIA. The things that man could probably do even now, without that power…

"That was then. Livvie said she didn't stay long with them – just until she had graduated from Columbia."

"Can't say that I blame her." I nodded, nursing my beer. I couldn't _blame_ Olivia for walking out and leaving her parents when she did, but I felt bad about it. At times. My own feelings toward my father were enough for me to wish that Olivia was on speaking terms with hers. Perhaps one day, things would be different.

"It is what it is." I glanced back at the door when I heard it opening and smiled. Speak of the devil. Olivia and James stood in the doorway, both wrapped in heavy coats. She was speaking to him, unaware of where Cyrus and I sat. I watched as the two walked up to the bar, ordering drinks. A quick glance at Cyrus told me that he was watching James as much as I was watching Olivia. It felt good knowing that the two of us were finally happy – finally with the ones who _made_ us happy. After grabbing their drinks, James directed Olivia to our table. Her smile when she saw me, warmed my heart.

"How was your interview?" I asked, as she slid in beside me, setting her drink on the table and giving me enough room to wrap my arm around her.

"I think they liked me." She winked, snuggling into my side as James sat across from her.

"You'll get it and you'll love it. Raven is a good person to work for," Cyrus stated, grinning at Olivia.

"That explains how she already knew of me." I smirked at her – she had forgotten about Cyrus's connections while she was gone.

"I have a feeling that's going to be the norm here soon," I winked, cracking another peanut shell.

"You think so, huh?"

"I know so," I replied, kissing her forehead. We both laughed at the gagging noise James made, pretending to hide his face on Cyrus's shoulder.

"Children," Cyrus chided, shaking his head at us. Olivia grinned, burrowing closer to me.

"We're still catching up. Cut us some slack, James," she stuck her tongue out.

"Believe it or not, I've missed this. Don't ever disappear for six years again."

"Next time, I'll stick with five." The look of shock on James's face had Olivia giggling. I shook my head at the two of them.

"There won't be a _next_ time."

* * *

"So, I've been thinking…"

"Oh no," I chuckled, glancing over my shoulder at Olivia. My hands stung slightly from the warm water in the sink; my attention divided between Olivia and the plate I was washing.

"It's nothing bad," she grinned, using her side to shove me over, taking the plate from my hands and rinsing it while I started on the next dish.

"What?" I eyed her warily. We hadn't been dating long, if that's what we were going to call this. We had avoided any definitive names in terms of _what_ we were. Part of me worried that someone had managed to convince her that we really were moving too fast.

"I think, if I get that job, that we should start looking at houses – or a bigger apartment, at least." I breathed a sigh of relief, grateful that was all she wanted to talk about.

"Too cramped here?"

"We can literally only fit one dresser in your room and we both know I have more clothes than that," she laughed.

"We can start looking at houses now, if you want. We don't have to wait."

"Are you sure? I have some savings, but I'd rather wait until I have a job before I contribute too much."

"Olivia, don't worry about contributing right away. Like I said, we'll figure it out as we go."

"Where did this laid back attitude come from?" She grinned, rinsing the last dish before drying her hands. She tossed the dish towel at me when she was finished. I wiped my hands on the damp towel.

"I've grown over the years." I shrugged, laying the towel on the counter and moving toward the refrigerator. I pulled a beer from the top shelf, shutting the door and twisting the cap. Tossing the cap in the trash, I leaned back against the counter, sipping at the cool liquid and watching as Olivia leaned against the island, putting her elbows on the black granite and watching me.

"So…what happened between you and your dad?" I tried to stifle a groan – it really shouldn't have surprised me that she would ask that question. She had always been the inquisitive sort. I wasn't sure how to go about answering her question; I didn't want to talk about my dad. He and I never had gotten along, but things had taken a turn for the worst lately.

"What happened between you and your parents?"

"After what my dad did…threatening you like he did…I couldn't forgive him. I was eighteen – I had every right to make my own decision and he took it from me." Fire blazed in her eyes as she spoke. I sipped on my beer, she had a _lot_ of unresolved issues where her father was concerned. I had my own qualms with Eli, but I still didn't like that she wasn't speaking with him.

"Remember me telling you about my mother and how she died?"

"She drowned, right?" I gulped the last remnants of my beer, feeling the burn of the alcohol as it slid down my throat. That was what I had told Olivia when she and I had first spoken about my mother and, at the time, that is what I had been told had happened. What I had believed had happened.

"About two years ago when my dad tried getting me to run for mayor, I found out that her death wasn't quite the accident I thought it had been." Saying those words out loud took nearly every ounce of strength I had. I hadn't told anyone what I had discovered or the reason why I could no longer look my father in the eye. I had always hated the man, but after he had admitted what he had done…if I had had more proof, I would have enjoyed seeing him rot in jail.

"Your father?" She was shocked, her mouth forming a slight 'o' as she looked at me with pity, her eyes watering.

"He couldn't let her get in the way of his ambitions." She came around the island, wrapping her arms around my waist and laying her head on my shoulder.

"I'm sorry. We have some pretty fucked up families." I sat my empty bottle on the counter behind me and wrapped my arms around her, stroking her back. She was right – we did have fucked up families.

* * *

"I got it!" Olivia came running into the bedroom just as I was tightening my tie. A grin spread across her face and she clutched her phone tightly in her hands.

"The job?" I asked, watching her in the mirror as I tucked my shirt into my dress pants.

"Yes! You're looking at the District of Columbia's newest prosecuting attorney." Her joy was infectious. I was happy for her. She had been hesitant to apply for a position with the Attorney General and had given me many excuses for why she should not apply – from being too young to not having enough experience to work with the Attorney General's office. In all honesty, both of those worries had been true, but I had asked Cyrus to pull a few strings and he had more than delivered.

"That's fantastic, Liv," I turned to envelop her in a hug, bending to my place my lips on hers, "You're going to be amazing."

"I'll only be working on cases that originate within the district. Raven said that she handles all federal cases, but…"

"It's still one hell of an accomplishment."

"Thank you! I start tomorrow." She was nearly jumping with excitement. I couldn't blame her. She saw this as one more step to building our life together.

"I have to get to work. We'll have dinner this evening to celebrate. I can invite Cyrus and James if you want?"

"I have a feeling that Cyrus was _the_ reason I was offered the position – invite them."

"I'll see you after work," I kissed her forehead, grabbing my briefcase from the bed, "Start looking for houses while I'm gone!"

* * *

"Did Olivia hear about that job yet?" Cyrus came trudging through the snow, two tall cups of coffee in his hands. He offered me one.

"She did and she says thanks for helping her."

"She got it then?" I nodded, sipping the warm coffee. Cyrus had become a close friend of mine over the years. He had gone through a dark time when he was going through his divorce and some of his decisions at that time could be called into question, but overall he had been a good friend to me and was turning into a good friend to Olivia, as well.

"She's excited. Said she starts tomorrow."

"You still planning on popping the question?" He held the door open as we entered the large building on the far right of campus – the home to our political science department. The warmth that filled the small entrance barely fought off the cold air that followed us.

"I am."

"I can't believe you're about to take the plunge. We'll have to go shopping together." I smiled at that statement. Cyrus would never suggest we go shopping together unless…

"Are you finally going to pop the question with James?" The two had been dating for two years and during that time, were only getting closer. I had anticipated a proposal long before now, but Cyrus had seemed to be dragging his feet. After his divorce and the fallout from that, I had assumed there was only one logical explanation for that. He was scared.

"You can say that you and Olivia inspired me. So what do you say?"

"Sure. But tonight, Olivia wants you and James to have dinner with us."

"Of course. What time?"

"Eight? Gives me plenty of time to cook…or pick up a meal and pretend that I cooked."

"That sounds better than you actually cooking," he smirked, "I'll bring the wine."


	5. Warrior

_**Then & Now**_

 _ **Chapter Five:**_

 _ **Warrior**_

 _ **Now**_

 _ **Olivia:**_

"And here is your office. Mine is right down the hall. You can call, email, or knock any time you have a question." Raven held the door open, allowing me to slip past her into my new office. I took a look around – it wasn't large, but it wasn't cramped either. Completely bare. I would have to do something about that later. Depositing my new briefcase, Cyrus and James had insisted I accept the gift, on my desk, I walked around to my seat.

"Your login information is in the top drawer. In your welcome folder. You can change it after you sign in. Good luck, Olivia and we're all thrilled to have you joining us." She was gone in a flash of blonde, her heels clicking down the hall despite having shut my office door. I sat in the chair, it was more comfortable than I had expected. Pulling the top drawer out, wiggling it ever so slightly as it stuck, I retrieved the blue folder and found my login information. Quickly typing the information, I logged in and changed my password when prompted.

The introductory paperwork was boring and repetitive, but it did keep me busy until lunch. Lunch was a solitary affair. I didn't know my new coworkers well and didn't feel like joining them in the break room. Eating my lunch at my desk, I decided to call Fitz. Luckily, he had a break between classes. He answered on the second ring.

"Hey, how's work going?"

"Good. I miss you."

"Already? I saw you about five hours ago." I could hear the smile in his voice. God did I love that smile. It was crazy to think we had moved so far, so fast, yet here we were. Dating and drawing up paperwork to purchase our own home. I never imagined, years ago when I first met him, that it would lead to this. Had I thought he was hot when I first met him? Who wouldn't? But I hadn't thought that we would ever have a relationship.

"What can I say? I'm addicted."

"Stop trying to make me blush." I knew he was joking, but the thought of him sitting in his office, rosy cheeked at something I had said, had me hoping it was true.

"I should get back to it."

"Having fun?"

"Well, I've done about fifty sheets of introductory papers and watched about five videos."

"Hopefully it picks up for you, soon."

"Hopefully. I'll see you at home."

"About that…I'll text you an address later. Our realtor called and has a house she wants us to look at."

"Oh? Okay," I smiled. Everything really was coming together for us.

"Bye."

"I love you."

"Love you, too." I couldn't help that my grin grew wider as I placed the receiver back in its cradle, or that I most likely looked like a love sick puppy. Throwing my trash away and putting my lunchbox off to the side, I settled back into my chair, fully prepared to finish the remainder of the first day videos I was supposed to watch. A soft knock on my door disrupted that plan. I called out to the person on the other side, watching as they slowly turned the doorknob and opened the door. The pale brunette was familiar, but I couldn't place her. As she took a seat in front of my desk, I couldn't help but think that I definitely knew her.

"We've never gotten to officially meet. I'm Mellie." She held her hand across my desk. I shook her hand; she had a strong handshake. Sitting back, I observed her. She was the woman Cyrus had brought to the bar the night I had returned. She had gone on a date with Fitz; a date he had described as tremendously boring.

"Olivia," I offered. Why was she in my office?

"I thought I would introduce myself to my newest coworker." She works here? Cyrus could have mentioned that. I wondered if Fitz knew. If he did, why hadn't he at least warned me? I could imagine just how awkward this could get.

"I'm sorry. I know this seems a little awkward after our last unofficial run in." Her blue eyes crinkled as she said that; she sounded amused and somewhat embarrassed. Taking that as a good sign, I responded:

"Less awkward than our last encounter."

"For you, maybe," she chuckled, "I know Raven has us working on a case together and I wanted to clear the air between the two of us."

"Clear the air?" I was genuinely confused. I couldn't think of a single reason why she would feel the need to do that. Unless she was speaking of Fitz. But Fitz and I had already spoken about her. He didn't like her. Romantically, at least. His assertions were all I needed.

"I am sure you know that Fitz and I went on a date and I know that night at the bar did not look good…"

"You could say that again."

"Look, we went on one, _awful_ date," she shuddered, "And Cyrus practically had to drag me to that bar to 'try again' as he put it. I didn't want to be there at all and, seeing Fitz with you, had me so relieved. My dad has been pushing for me to settle down and, Cyrus being Cyrus, offered to help with that. I don't know why they ever thought that Fitz would be a good fit."

"At the risk of sounding somewhat mean, I'm glad he wasn't."

"Don't worry about it. I still get my freedom and you seem very happy," she grinned. I could see the two of us becoming friends – if she was being honest about her feelings toward Fitz. I didn't feel like competing with anyone.

"I'm glad it worked out."

"Me, too. We'll speak tomorrow about the case?" She stood to go.

"Sure."

* * *

"Sorry I'm late, baby." Fitz came practically running to where I stood, pecking my lips. I shrugged. He wasn't that late.

"The realtor still isn't here."

"Yeah, she sent me a text on my way over. She'll be here in another minute or so. How was your first day?" He leaned against the hood of my car, sipping on his coffee. I slid one hand into one of his, letting his warmth take away the cold in my fingers.

"You didn't tell me that I would be working with Mellie."

"Shit. I forgot about that. She wasn't a pain in the ass for you, was she?"

"Calm down, tiger," I laughed, patting his chest, "She's not that bad. Thinks you're entirely too boring, though."

"I don't care what she thinks about me. All I care about is what you think."

"And I definitely don't think you're boring," I giggled, laying my head on his shoulder.

"Nervous?" I shook my head, reaching for the Styrofoam cup in his hands.

"I'm excited."

"To live with me? That's an unusual reaction," he smirked, relinquishing his cup.

"I already live with you, dork," I laughed, sighing as the warm liquid slid down my throat. Winter in Washington sucked.

"This is a little more permanent," he pointed out, "Both of our names will be on the deed. Harder to run away, that way."

"Maybe I don't plan on running away."

"I know I don't," he whispered against my head, kissing my temple as a silver car pulled up behind us. He let go of me to shake Oriel's hand.

"Nice to see you again, Fitz. Olivia," she nodded in my direction, tucking a silver strand behind her ear.

"You too, Oriel." I placed my hand in Fitz's, intertwining our fingers before we followed Oriel to the front door. The brick house, snuggled between two others, was the perfect size for a first home. Not too large – who really needed more than a couple bedrooms, anyway? And not too small – having some room to turn around was my one request. We didn't want a large yard; we really wouldn't have time to take care of one and neither one of us were up for many outdoorsy activities.

"What do you think?" Oriel asked later, regrouping with Fitz and I in the foyer. The house was nice – shiny, hard wood floors everywhere but the kitchen, done in Mediterranean style green tile, and the two bathrooms that had grey, slate tile. There were three bedrooms, a little larger than I wanted although Fitz already had his eye on converting the third bedroom to an office, accessible by the wooden staircase as we first entered the home. A sizeable closet was under the stairs and the family room was more than adequate for our needs.

"I loved it," I answered, leaning into Fitz's embrace.

"Great! Would you like to make an offer? They're asking $700,00, but they'll take lower. They're eager to get it sold. If you want, I say we offer $650,000." That was a relief. At least we were under budget. It was a great price for a home so close to Capitol Hill.

"That sounds good," Fitz grinned, rubbing my arm.

"Super! I'll be in touch as soon as I hear something!" Oriel extended her hand, shaking mine and Fitz's before leading us out of the home, using a key to lock the door. We waved at her as she pulled away.

* * *

"Good morning!" I groaned at the loud, cheery voice and tried to hide my head in my arms. I had only just sat down in my chair, my head pounding from lack of sleep. Fitz had been sick the previous night, I suspected food poisoning, and I had spent the night taking care of him. I was running on fumes.

"You look exhausted. Good thing I stopped for coffee." That got my attention. Slowly lifting my head, I took in the sight of Mellie standing in the doorway, a tray with Starbucks coffee in her hands.

"You're a life saver." She placed the tray on my desk. I was surprised to see that one of the cups had my name written on it. The other, hers. Sipping on the scalding liquid, I accepted the folder she held out to me.

"I hope black is okay. I wasn't too sure how you drink yours – there's sugar in one of the cupholders, by the way. I would have texted and asked, but I don't have your number. Which reminds me: I need your number." I laughed at her ramblings as she took a seat, popping the lid off her cup and adding packets of sugar. I took her offered phone, adding my name and number to her contacts before sending myself a text. I would save hers later.

"Black is fine." I flipped the file open, glancing over the top page. "Whoa. Talk about heavy material for a first case."

"That's what I said." She snapped her lid back into place and took a sip of her sugar coffee. I grimaced as she did so – it couldn't taste good.

"This isn't a case that Raven would normally handle?" I continued flipping through the folder, pausing at the third page. I tried not to avert my eyes – it was gruesome.

"It's a tricky case. He has absolutely no support from the Bureau, but he was still a federal employee. Also, technically this case is originating within the district as the murder supposedly happened here."

"I was hoping for something a little less…"

"Gruesome? Hefty? Yeah, this sucks for you. It's an awful first case."

"Thanks for the support?" I chuckled. Mellie was surprisingly easy to get along with.

"Sorry. I'm no happier about this than you are," she shrugged. I could understand that. Murder cases were never fun and murder cases involving a federal agent…

"Please tell me he's in protective custody?" Nothing I'd seen in the file suggested that he was.

"I think so? We're building a case against him, why should we care?"

"Because if anything happens to him while he's in prison, it's likely his family will sue for reparations. We _have_ to make sure he's safe."

"Fair point."

"We don't have _any_ witnesses?"

"The only witness we have is in jail."

"Fun."

"Hey, we can do this." She gave a reassuring smile. I laughed – that was different than her tone earlier. We worked in relative silence until around lunch, making notes doing what little research we could. When Mellie stood and stretched, announcing it was time for lunch, I was more than happy to accept her invitation to the Panera down the street. We sat, eating our tomato mozzarella flatbread, chatting in between bites and ignoring the traffic outside the window.

"What kept you up last night?" she asked, reaching for a napkin as tomato juice drizzled down her chin.

"Fitz was sick."

"That sucks." She sounded genuine. I appreciated that.

"I think he got food poisoning from that new pizza place by our apartment."

"That's even worse! I don't handle vomit well."

"As long as it isn't on me, I'm good." I shrugged, biting into my sandwich. I had to admit – it was pretty good. Mellie had suggested it and I had learned that she didn't eat meat.

"Not me. If I hear, smell, or see it at all, I end up puking my guts out." She shuddered.

* * *

I gently closed the door to the apartment, trying not to make too much noise. I hoped Fitz was sleeping, if he had managed to fall asleep. He had still been throwing up when I had left in the morning. Kicking my heels off, I slowly crept toward the sofa. He was laying, one arm thrown over his eyes, with a blanket to his chin and one foot touching the floor. Despite my attempts at being quiet, he still sat up, blinking in my direction.

"Is it 3:00 already?" his voice was groggy, cracking with each word. I nodded, unbuttoning my coat and draping it over my arm. I happened to glance at his empty glass on the coffee table. Grasping the cup in one hand, I turned toward the kitchen, hanging my coat in the closet as I went. Returning to the sofa, I handed him the now full glass and watched as he gingerly sipped the cold Sprite. I settled into the cushion beside him.

"Feeling any better?"

"I finally stopped throwing up about an hour after you left this morning. Still don't think I'm up for trying any food."

"What about sleep?" I scooted closer to him when he sat his glass on the table and opened his arms to me.

"About three hours?" His yawn was indicative of that – and very contagious. Yanking his discarded blanket from the floor, I threw it over the two of us, wiggling around until we were laying on the sofa. Right as my phone dinged. Pulling the device from my pocket, I opened the message and read it.

 _At the risk of sounding mushy, it's nice to have a friend, Olivia. Thanks for that._

I smiled as I typed my response, contemplating what Mellie had just said. I hadn't gotten in contact with anyone I had gone to high school with the last time I had been here – truth be told; I had hated most of them. Any friends I had made in college were either still in New York or halfway around the world. Mellie was my first friend since moving back. My first real friend since having to move to this side of the country. Sure James and Cyrus were my friends, but even I knew that they were my friends because they were _Fitz's_ friends.

 _Thanks for being my friend, too._

It didn't take long for her to send another message.

 _Coffee tomorrow? I'll bring bagels too. What kind?_

 _Blueberry. Thanks! See you in the A.M._

Placing my phone on the coffee table, I snuggled deeper in Fitz's arms, fully anticipating questions from him. I hadn't hidden my phone while I had been texting – I really didn't see a need in ever doing that. There was nothing I did that he couldn't know about. As I turned to look at him, I was greeted with a quiet, somewhat adorable snore. Trying not to laugh too loud, I laid my head against his chest and closed my eyes. We would talk later.


	6. Blood Money

**A/N: I absolutely love all of your theories about Mellie! While she's not in this chapter, I will go ahead and put your worries to rest. I want to write a Mellie that is very rarely seen and that I feel will be more challenging to write than a typical bitchy/cockblocking Mellie. You have nothing to worry about from her in this story – she is being genuine in her desire for friendship from Olivia and she does have a backstory that I hope to incorporate and explain why she had the potential to turn into the Mellie we're used to. – G. xx (Blood Money is a reference to Sippy Cup by Melanie Martinez).**

 _ **Then & Now**_

 _ **Chapter Six:**_

 _ **Blood Money**_

 _ **Then**_

 _ **Fitz:**_

"Your grandmother expects you to be at the family dinner this Sunday." I tried not to groan into the headset at my father's comment. I attempted to avoid any locations where I knew a large portion of my family would be present - in particular, my father and grandfather. They were both assholes. My life operated a lot smoother when they weren't involved.

"I'll see what I can do. I've got a lot of work to catch up." I stared at the pile of papers before me - all still unmarked. It was the first paper of the semester; an easy argument of James Madison's views on protest groups using the Federalist Papers to back up their statements. They were short papers and wouldn't take long to grade, but my father didn't need to know that.

"Bring them with you. Your grandmother is looking forward to seeing you." Moving the phone from my head, I sighed and rubbed my eyes. I _would_ feel bad if I blew my grandmother off. She was one of the few members of my family that I actually liked.

"I'll try, dad."

"You better be there." There it was. My dad's infamous temper about to flare and coming out in the form of a command. He never was content to allow me to make my own choices.

"Fine." I didn't pay too close of attention to what he said next. He had gotten me to agree to what I knew would be another horrible family dinner. He wouldn't stay on the phone too much longer. After we hung up, I headed toward the refrigerator - might as well make a snack before diving into the pile of papers taking up space on my dinning room table. I had just finished my bacon wraps and the first paper of the stack when I heard the door open and close behind me.

"I can't wait for these classes to be over." I chuckled at that - Sarah was always complaining about her classes. She only had two left before she finished her English degree.

"It'll be over before you know it." I placed the end of the pen in my mouth, chewing as I looked at the next paper from the stack. _Olivia Pope_ was scrawled across the top in loopy handwriting. She had forgotten to put her name on the paper and had asked if I would still accept it if she hand wrote it on the top. I had agreed to accept it and not deduct any points. It was her first paper and I was always more lenient on the first paper of the semester.

"It doesn't feel like it." She placed her hands on my shoulders. I tipped my head back to look at her and she brought her lips down to mine. We had barely touched when she pulled back and rubbed her mouth, coughing. "You were eating meat. You could have warned me!"

I shook my head - her and that damn vegan kick of hers. This was something that had started only recently. I was pretty sure that she was only doing it because it had become a popular trend and the rest of her friends had gone vegan as well. She sure as hell wasn't doing it because of her love for animals - she wasn't an animal fan. She wouldn't even allow me to get a dog. Bending my head, I focused on the paper in front of me. It wasn't worth it to get into an argument with Sarah.

" _As outlined in Federalist Paper number ten, James Madison, although believing that factions were a necessary evil of democracy, would have condoned the present protests in our nation…"_ She had a solid hook. Reading the rest of her paper, I was impressed that she was freshly out of high school and this was her first major university assignment. She wrote better than her classmates - many of whom had been taking classes for quite some time now. Scribbling across the top of her paper, I laid it to the side. She deserved the one-hundred I had given her.

"I'm bored." Sarah flopped into the chair beside me. I glanced at her, she had completely redone her makeup and changed into a short, black dress with heels. I knew what she was hinting at, but I had work to do and, knowing that it wouldn't do me any good to explain that to her, decided to play dumb.

"Do you have any homework?" She sighed loudly and rolled her eyes, stomping her feet beneath the table.

"It's Friday, Fitz."

"Your professors don't give homework on Fridays?" This time she practically screamed out loud - annoying her was easy, sometimes.

"If you don't want to hang out with me, all you had to do was say so." She stood from the table, shoving the chair back into place and heading toward the door. She slung her purse over her shoulder as she called, "I'm going clubbing with some friends. Don't wait up."

The door slammed behind her. She was pissed. I had a lot of making up to do later, assuming I wanted to make up to her later. She wasn't my idea of the perfect girlfriend and I certainly didn't see myself ever proposing to her, but my dad liked her and she kept him off my back most of the time. Dad thought she was the one for me. We were from similar backgrounds and she was ambitious. What more could I ask for? Well, love, for starters.

Around midnight, I gave up on finishing the large stack in front of me. I would get up early in the morning and finish them before packing for this dinner. I'd ask Sarah to join me - even if we fought the entire ride tomorrow evening, it would be beneficial to have her at my grandparents'. She would keep my dad and grandpa off my back. I rubbed my eyes, standing from my chair and heading toward the bedroom in the back of the apartment. I put my phone on the pillow beside my head. I would get a phone call later to come pick Sarah up from whatever club she and her friends were occupying. I always did. Yawning, I laid down and closed my eyes, waiting for sleep to come.

 _Ring. Ring. Ring._

Groggily, I opened my eyes and fumbled around for my phone. Finding the small rectangle in the dark was no easy task even with the screen glowing. My eyes took a minute or two to adjust to the dark and being awake. Finding the phone, I managed to read Sarah's name and press the answer button. 3:30. Right on cue for her.

"Where are you, Sarah?" I asked by way of greeting. We had been through this dance a time or two. It never seemed to matter to her, either, what my plans were for the next day. She only cared about having someone there for her.

"We're at The Manor, Fitz. She's really fucked up this time." Of course she was. At least Vanessa, I _think_ her name was Vanessa - keeping up with Sarah's friends was impossible, had enough sense to call me.

"I'm on my way." I hung up and stood from the bed, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. I didn't bother getting dressed - my pajamas would do. Sarah could complain about how much I embarrassed her in the morning. The Manor was a well-known hangout for college students, anyway. I wouldn't be surprised if a few of them were in their pajamas, too. I jammed my wallet and phone into my pocket before grabbing my car key. Yawning, I headed out of the apartment, locking the door on my way, and down to the parking garage.

I tried listening to some music on my way to the club - hoping that it would keep me awake. Three hours of sleep wasn't enough for any normal functioning person. I yawned again, forcing my eyes to stay open as I drove the deserted streets. I was thankful they were deserted - it reduced the chances of me hitting someone else in my sleep deprived state. I finally managed to locate the street I needed and flipped on my turning signal a moment too late before I whipped down the street and found a place to park.

I slid out of the car, trying to refrain from taking my annoyance out on my vehicle and slamming the door. I jabbed the lock button on the key and stomped off in direction of the club. There were still a healthy amount of students loitering around the front - celebrating getting through their first week of classes, no doubt. I ignored them. This wasn't my thing and hadn't been since I had graduated. I'd made it clear to Sarah more than once that I was past the clubbing and getting sloppy drunk stage. Not to mention that it was completely unprofessional to frequent the same clubs/bars as my students.

"I want to go home." The familiar voice stopped me as I placed my hand on the club's brass door handle. I turned around to notice a tall athlete standing on the sidewalk, his hand wrapped tightly around a much shorter girl's wrist. I sighed. This was not how I wanted to spend my night. Dropping my hand from the door handle, I walked toward the edge of the sidewalk. Getting a better view, I noticed the young girl as Olivia. How or why she was in this part of town this late was beyond me. She had given me some details of her life - enough for me to know that she was only seventeen. The dark-haired athlete clinging to her arm was easy to place as well. Eric Garcia - a junior star of the baseball team who didn't do very well in classes from what I recalled.

"Hmph," I cleared my throat, noticing with satisfaction that Eric quickly dropped his hand from Olivia's arm. She began rubbing her tiny wrist, grimacing as she did so.

"Professor Grant." The look of surprise that crossed the taller man's face was almost comical. "How are you?"

"Just fine, Eric." I shook my head. "How are you, Olivia?"

"Tired and ready to go home," she admitted, crossing her arms over her chest. I nodded. Sighing, I made a suggestion I wasn't too happy about, but I didn't see any other choice.

"Do you need a ride?" I couldn't leave her with Eric. Not after what I had just witnessed. Even if I hadn't just witnessed that, I couldn't in good conscience leave her in this part of the city alone.

She nodded her head, looking at the ground in front of her feet. She almost looked embarrassed. "If you don't mind."

"There's something I need to do first, but come on." She headed in the direction I had just come from as Eric began protesting:

"Olivia, I can take you home. No need for Professor Grant to go out of his way…"

"Eric, even if she wanted you to take her home, after what I just witnessed, _I_ wouldn't allow it," I interrupted, walking away from the younger guy and guiding Olivia toward the entrance to the club. The bouncer raised a brow at the two of us and I groaned, all too aware of what it looked like. He didn't question the two of us, though, and that in itself made me question the legitimacy of this place. We walked around for minutes in search of my wayward girlfriend.

"What brings you to this side of town?" I asked, trying to make conversation.

"Eric asked me out and I told my stepmom I was staying the night with a friend. She was so happy that I finally made a friend she didn't even question my story. Eric never told me where we were going or that he happens to be a complete jackass." She rolled her eyes as she made that statement and I found myself nodding along.

"At least you learned your lesson without any more damage than a few bruises on your arm." I didn't mean to sound so heartless about what was more than likely a terrorizing moment for her, but I wanted her to know that she _had_ been lucky. Much worse could have happened had no one been there to intervene. It was a sad fact of college life.

"Thanks for that."

"Any time." I sighed as I made that comment. What was up with me tonight? I hoped there wasn't another time, that she would be smarter than that.

"Is that your girlfriend?" She pointed toward a table at the back. I had shown her a picture of Sarah when we had first entered. I thought it would help the search process. Sure enough, there was Sarah standing on the table, swaying her hips to the music. She stumbled as I came near, falling from the table and into my arms. It wasn't the most graceful display as she shoved her red hair out of her green eyes, her drink spilling down her front.

"Fitz," she cooed, bringing her hands to my hair. I grabbed her hands, trying to bring them down to her side and help her stand. I couldn't let her go - she was swaying too much.

"Olivia, can you grab her purse?" I asked, watching as she nodded and reached for the bag on the table. She followed me as I lead Sarah out of the club. Outside, Sarah collapsed on the ground. I watched in frustration as she proceeded to lie down on the dirty cement and cradle her head in her arms. Within moments she was sound asleep. Bending, I put my hands under her arms and yanked her up into my arms. Her dress was dirty - she would yell about it in the morning. I carried her to the car where I deposited her in the backseat and gestured for Olivia to take the passenger seat.

"Where do you live, Olivia?"

"You don't have to take me home - you've got your hands full." I glanced at the backseat as she made that observation. Sarah was still completely passed out. She wouldn't wake up until late afternoon. Once she was out, she was out.

"She won't wake up for a few hours and I'm not letting you walk home. It's too dangerous at this time." She sighed, seeming to accept her defeat, and rattled an address. It wasn't too far from my home - over a street or two. Like my apartment, it was in one of the nicer neighborhoods.

"But really, you could just drop me off _near_ my house." I rubbed my eyes in frustration as she made that suggestion. She wasn't planning on going home which left me with two choices - neither of which was to drop her off on the street.

"Olivia, either I take you home and make sure your parents know you are home, or you can stay at my house until morning. Then I will drop you off. I'm not leaving you on the street."

"If you're cool with me staying at your house for the next couple hours, my dad normally gets up around 6. I'll tell him I came home early because my friend had to work." That wasn't my favorite choice of the two options I had given her, but it was better than what she had suggested.

"Okay." I put the car in drive, pulling onto the road and turning right. We didn't talk anymore and that gave me plenty of time to think about what I was doing. I had invited one of my students back to my house. That didn't make me feel great at all - even if the alternative was her staying on the street for a few hours. Honestly, it was one of the dumbest things I could ever recall doing. Only I would attempt a good deed and have it backfire in such a way.

At my house, Olivia helped me get Sarah inside and in bed. After I had gotten her tucked in, I showed Olivia to the living room, offering her a pillow and blanket. Throwing both on the sofa, I watched as she looked around the room, taking in the little nuances Sarah had added here and there.

"This isn't at all what I would have pictured."

"Oh?" I looked around the small room, trying to see what she was seeing.

"No history, no books. It's very...showy." She shrugged. I had to agree with her - the living room wasn't something I would have picked out. Sarah had decorated the apartment not long after she moved in with me. She had denounced the need for any books to be present where others would see them. She thought my apartment should showcase my family's wealth and status as a political dynasty. My dad thought it was great. That in itself was enough reason for me to hate the decorations.

"Decorating is Sarah's domain," I tried to brush it off. I had been warned a time or two by my friends that the way I spoke of Sarah made it sound like we weren't a happy couple. At this point in my life, I didn't know if that were true or not. She nodded, seeming to accept my explanation.

"Thanks again for this."

"No problem. Just yell if you wake up before me and I'll drive you home." She nodded, sitting on the sofa and cracking the blanket open. I headed back to my room, turning the lights off on the way.

* * *

"Fitz." I groaned at the sound of Sarah's voice and rolled over to look at the alarm clock. It wasn't even eight yet. Rubbing my eyes, I sat up to find Sarah standing in the doorway, her arms crossed and her eyes blazing with anger.

"Why the fuck is there a woman on our sofa?" I sighed. What was the best way to explain this situation to Sarah?

"She's technically still a kid - she's only seventeen," I remarked, watching as Sarah's glare intensified.

"So you bring a random teenager home?"

"She's not random. She's one of my students." Normally I wasn't so vague with my explanations, but lack of sleep and Sarah's pissy attitude didn't leave me in a 'plays well with others' mood.

"None of this is making the fact that she's asleep on _our_ sofa any better."

"When I had to pick _your_ drunk ass up from the club last night, she happened to be there with an older guy who, let's just say, wouldn't take no for an answer." I waited for Sarah to argue with that logic. Unlike most women who would have been concerned for someone in that situation, Sarah would only focus on the fact that I had brought Olivia here. She had a surprising lack of empathy for others.

"You could have came with me. I invited you."

"I had work to do."

"I want her out of my apartment."

"I'm taking her home when she wakes up."

"Now."

"When she wakes up, Sarah." She leaned against the doorframe, pouting. I shook my head. She always tried that when she didn't get her way and if that didn't work, she wasn't above trying to use sex.

"Fitz…"

"Hey, I'm going to my grandma's this evening. We're having a family dinner tomorrow. I'm sure dad would love to see you." She perked up at my invitation. She loved seeing my dad - why was beyond me.

"Okay." I stood from the bed and padded toward the doorway. With one foot in the carpeted hallway, Sarah decided to question where I was going. "Are you going to wake her now?"

"No. I'm going to drink a pot of coffee. Or ten energy drinks. Possibly both." I yawned and headed in the direction of the kitchen. It was going to be a long day with little sleep.

I was on my second cup of coffee when Olivia walked into the kitchen. Her hair was sticking up in every direction and her eyes were slightly bloodshot. She looked no better than I imagined I did. "There's coffee if you'd like some."

"No, thanks. I don't like the taste." That surprised me. I didn't hear that very often. Another reminder that she was only seventeen despite how mature she tended to act.

"There's Red Bull in the fridge if you'd rather have that." She nodded, pulling the stainless steel door open and grabbing an energy drink. Standing, I downed the last drops of the liquid in my cup and grabbed my keys off the table.

"Ready to go?" She nodded once more, following me out of the door and down to the parking garage. In the car, she gave me her address once more, requesting I drop her off a couple houses from hers so she wouldn't have to answer questions about her night.

"Thanks for everything," she said as I parked on the side of the road, within eyesight of her house. I was impressed by the large, brick house that she had pointed at when I had asked where she lived. It was beautiful. She had sighed when she saw the large, black SUV parked in the driveway - explaining that it meant her dad was still home. I would be lying if I said I wasn't curious about her relationship with her dad - there was always a hint of resentment when she spoke about him. It was easy to recognize for someone who resented their own father.

"No problem." I watched as she opened the door, getting out of the vehicle and waving to me before she started down the sidewalk. I waited until I saw her enter her home before driving away.

Back at the apartment, Sarah was already packed and waiting. I had to endure her countless complaints and comments as I packed my own suitcase. There wasn't much packing to do - she had already decided on my outfit for the family dinner. Khakis and a blue dress shirt that would match her dress. I hated khakis, she knew this, but I didn't see the point in starting an argument. Not when she was still fuming over Olivia.

"Ready?" I asked, coming out of the bedroom with my bag slung over my shoulder. I didn't need to pack too much for this trip. We wouldn't get to Boston until around eight or so. Just enough time to check into the hotel and go to bed. Sarah, on the other hand, had packed a full suitcase as well as a carry-on that I knew most likely held her makeup and hair things. And, of course, she expected me to carry it all to the car. The joys of having a girlfriend.

The long drive to Boston was mostly filled with silence. Sarah didn't decide to really speak to me until we were about an hour outside of the city and only then because she was hungry. The fact that she could remain so annoyed because of Olivia blew my mind. After eating, we made our way to the hotel and settled in for the night. Sarah was nearly bubbling with excitement at the thought of seeing my family the next day. I was trying to ignore the fact that I would soon be in the same room as my father.

"Fitz! You don't visit enough." I smiled at my grandma. She was right - I didn't visit her enough and I felt bad for that. Unfortunately, visiting her also meant I had to visit my grandfather.

"Sorry, grandma," I muttered, wrapping my arms around her small frame. She patted my back, mumbling that she understood, before letting go. Sarah nodded in her direction. She was never as happy to see my grandma as she was everyone else. Like me, my grandma didn't care much for most of our family and she wasn't too happy with the way my dad had turned out.

"Fitz!" I looked up the stairs to find my dad standing beside my grandpa, both with a glass of Scotch in their hands already. This ought to be interesting. Offering my arm, I escorted my grandma to the entranceway where they stood. Sarah practically bounded ahead of us, throwing her arms around my dad.

"I'm glad he invited you," my dad said to her, throwing his arm around her as he sipped on the amber colored liquid in his glass.

"Me, too," she giggled. I tried not to roll my eyes - I never had been comfortable with the way she acted around my dad. Or the way he acted around her, for that matter.

"I have some things I want to talk to you about." I raised a brow in his direction. It typically wasn't good when my father made that statement. The last time he had requested to talk to me was because he had learned I was thinking of ending things with Sarah. His 'talk' had been an hour long rant about how he expected me to propose to her soon. "Here in a couple years when Senator Godwin's term is up, he's not planning on running again. Your grandpa and I are going to put your name up as a possible candidate."

That was...worse than I could have imagined. I liked teaching and I loved having a degree in political science - but that didn't mean I ever wanted to be part of politics. I didn't want to run for an office or be in the spotlight. Not again. It had been bad enough while my dad had been a senator - even worse when my mom had died. It wasn't fun to have everyone watching your every move.

"I'll think about it." I hoped that would slide by my dad. There were times when a simple statement such as that got by him.

"It's already done." Of course now was not one of those times. Not when he was living his life through me. I sighed. I would have to find some other way out of this.


End file.
